


All the Debts I Owe (They Keep Me Useful)

by PjCole



Series: Passenger [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers Family, Casual reference to suicidal tendencies, Dialogue Light, Humor, M/M, Not Really Character Death, POV Tony Stark, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Iron Man 2, Slow Burn, Time Travel Fix-It, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark single handedly saves the MCU, Tony Stark-centric, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 06:06:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15966251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PjCole/pseuds/PjCole
Summary: After everything, after every single absolutely horrible and ridiculous thing that’s happened in the last eight years, Tony Stark dies on accident. He doesn’t even get to go out in a burst a fire and glory while saving the world alongside friends or even just teammates. No, he goes out alone on the floor of his workshop. Old friends scattered to the wind, Pepper silent on the other side of the country and only the beginnings of plans to fix the utter mess everything is in to show for it. And sure a time loop triggered by dying is all well and good, but finding out about it eight years after the fact is just ridiculous. The chance to change everything now, is really just utter bullshit.Still, he can't really look this gift horse in the mouth. Once the immediate issue of being back in Afghanistan is dealt with, he sets out to assemble the Avengers early enough to maybe make a real team out of them. And because the universe can never have anything except the last laugh, Steve is first....Starts sometime between CACW and Homecoming.





	All the Debts I Owe (They Keep Me Useful)

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes before we jump in:
> 
> 1\. By Slow Burn, I mean SLOW FUCKING BURN. You have been warned.
> 
> 2\. By Tony centric I mean this is focused very heavily on his perceptions of the world and the people in it. Some views are thus biased by how unreliable of a narrator this guys is. 
> 
> 2\. I am adjusting a few things in the time line just for the sake of ease because the MCU timeline has some weird problems, but overall events out of Tony's control will occur on the MCU schedule. Also some aspects of cannon will be edited, but these edits will be obvious or noted before the chapter affected by them. 
> 
> (Important Additional Warnings at end of chapter)

Here lies Tony Stark. He died as he lived, face down on the floor of his work shop in a puddle of mysterious fluids. It’s his last truly coherent thought before things go hazy around the edges and he can no longer hear FRIDAY reassuring him that emergency responders are on their way. He would be angry at himself for making a fucking joke of this, but really the pain is out of this world and he needs some sleep before he can bring himself to care. Or better yet, panic about not waking up once his eyes close. 

He is gonna die. He knows this with a certainty that leaves little room for fear. He’s really gonna die this time. After everything. After the literal shit storm of the past eight years. Hell, the last forty six years if he wants to play up the whole ‘ready to bite the dust’ thing. He is going to die alone in his workshop, nothing but his own carelessness to blame, and honestly the relief is not as much a surprise as a comfort.

He knew the thing was pressurized, knew the metal was strong and sharp and a bit unstable. But, he hadn’t slept more than three hours at a time since, since everything. He kept replaying Siberia over and over in his head, wishing he could reach into his own brain and scrape the memory out. Wanting to yank at the knowledge and the betrayal and his own mistakes until there is nothing left. So, he ignored FRIDAY’s warnings, ignored the quiet thrum under his hand and recklessly pushed into the seems at the six millionth replay of a shield hitting the ground and eyes looking away. 

It happened too quickly. Too fast for him to do anything other than let out a little “Oh” before slumping forward and sliding down to the floor. The drag over the desk had ripped out the largest piece and he lost too much blood before even fully settling onto the ground. Really he should want to keep breathing, but he just doesn’t. The residue of every bad decision has been trapped in his lungs for too long and it’s finally dislodging itself. 

The world is a mess, so much of which he made with his own two hands. Although he never really cared much for manners, it still feels wrong to leave the party without at least throwing out his own garbage. There is a laundry list of things he wants to fix, people he needs to care for and protect, wrongs to undo. But oh, is he tired. He has been so tired for so long and this just feels like finally finding a bed comfortable enough to close his eyes and not have to dream. 

The pain is there, rough and harsh and oh my god like nothing he has ever felt. But it’s also not, it’s happening to someone else, someone far away and long ago. 

Here lies Tony Stark. He died as he lived. Regretting.

* * *

When the feel of someone's hands in his chest pulls him back into reality, it takes a second for him to think anything past ‘ow ow ow, what the fuck, ow’. Then he actually feels mostly confused. This dream is so old it feels almost new, sharp in a way most nights haven’t been in years. As soon as that thought buzzes through, he realizes this is his first lucid dream in two years. Maybe that’s why he can feel it all so acutely. Feel the scratch of his throat as screams rip out of him without permission, the jolts of metal on inner tissue and numbness laced in needles so deep they pummel right through him.

There is fear too. Real fear that takes him by surprise but feels like it has been bodily pulsing through him for ages. It feels too real, too close to home, too aware of itself for a dream. 

The pain is too much, the yelling and the lights and the pain, the pain, the pa-

“I’m sorry. You can’t die yet.” A voice he remembers with startling clarity interrupts the panic enough that he thinks to wake up, but only manages to black out.

* * *

His eyes open again, into darkness and the sound of trickling water. There is something in his nose and down his throat, too horrible to tickle. He reaches with shaking hands and heavy breaths to pull it out, on instinct and a vague muscle memory. It feels not dissimilar to dry heaving on an empty stomachh. He gags as it rolls up, slithering and pulling. Pushing fiercely at his nose once it is out, he tries to hold out the air as it rushes into the raw membranes.

His hands are out of his control, like he’s just now acquired fingers and doesn’t know how to make them bend. They’re cold too, but his throat is raw from the tube and he needs water. There is a cup to his left, on a table he recognizes but can’t think about past the dry rough cough aching for release. When the cup clashes into the hard floor, his cough escapes in two rough curling bursts that pull his body fully onto his left side. 

Yinsen is shaving in front of a tiny warped mirror and Tony freezes. So still dreaming.

Humming, Tony can hear the man humming clearly. The thin mattress under his shoulder does nothing to cover the sharp metal of the bed frame and that is so sharply familiar. It’s playing out exactly as it should, but he feels too aware, able to decide his own movements more than unconsciousness usually allows. Everything is in such sharp focus. This can’t be a dream, the dampness in this bones is too heavy. Nothing but being wide awake feels like this. He wants to laugh, cry even. He died, finally died and this is what was waiting behind the curtain all this time.

Turns out hell does exist, though it seems weird for this to be his ultimate punishment. There are so many other memories to choose from, he could fill whole mansions with the options. This isn’t even the earliest one, nor the most recent. To be honest it feels horribly arbitrary and he is a little disappointed by the lack of intelligent design here. If a soul he never accepted having is going to be tortured for all eternity, the least they could do is put some effort into it. 

Trying to curl in on himself for warmth, he feels a tug in the center of his chest and reevaluates. Maybe this should be the eternal flame, a tethered hole in his chest and a red ledger he’ll never get the chance to wipe away. Seems he’ll never do enough penance, though that is not a surprise. He wants to roll and fall and let that hole rip open and away. 

That is certainly a thought. He is already dead, might as well act out one of his oldest and darkest fantasies.

“I wouldn’t do that-” Yinsen starts, but Tony does not hear the rest of it as he rolls off the bed and the wires yank and split. He chokes on a burst of air as magnet and skin and tissue go right along with it. God this feeling, so familiar he almost relishes in it. Even as he feels the constricting, the air rushing out of him as if it can not bear the thought of giving life to someone like him. 

Yinsen has come over, shocked and yelling with wide eyes. “Why would you -” is all that Tony hears before the edges go black, his throat closes up and he thinks hysterically ‘I shouldn’t be able to die in Hell’.

* * *

It plays through again.

“I’m sorry. You can’t die yet.” 

Blinking lights and a rag over his mouth as he tries to wake up. 

It goes just as well.

* * *

When the water trickle on the cave’s floor fades into focus once more, he lays there for a second longer than last time before yanking the tube out. He doesn’t bother reaching for the water this time, just lets the coughs rattle through him as his hands clench. His breath is heavy, but he can still make out Yinsen humming and if he has to spend eternity in this place at least there is that. 

As soon as he thinks it he hates himself, because Yinsen was meant for so much more than being trapped in Tony’s personal hell. He can only hope he is just an echo, a construct built for him like a LMD or, maybe more accurately here, a demon. When he rolls to his left this time, he only pulls enough to make a noise. Once does not prove a pattern, but Tony is a smart guy. Here he has Yinsen. If he loops again, those glaring lights will surely blind him. If he doesn’t, well, there is no way anything better is planning to meet him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Yinsen says without turning and Tony allows himself to lay back and glance over at the battery. It’s not shocking the way it had been when he lived this, but the clarity that he really has to go through it all again stings. Although he knows what’s under the bandages, he decides to play this out right. When everything is pulled off enough for him to see the metal protruding he almost wants to hitch off the bed again. Maybe it will start somewhere else this time, maybe it won't hurt so much, maybe he’ll get to skip the intro. 

That is the real thing stopping him. Waking up to the visual of your own heart beating is something he hoped to only experience the one time. 

Yinsen finishes shaving, before pulling the mirror off and walking over to him. Tony sits up and takes it but doesn’t bother really looking at it. Yinsen doesn't seem to notice his lack of curiosity and simply walks over to the fire and stirs around in the pan, whistling. Tony doesn’t prompt him, but the conversation still starts in almost the same way. Another point for the echo hypothesis. 

“What I did is to save your life.” A smile as he answers the question Tony did not ask, but remembers. Yinsen goes through his monologue like a trained actor, jiggling the shards of shrapnel against glass right on queue before tossing them. Tony catches without thinking and considers that maybe he is playing through the motions too before remembering the previous deviations. Yinsen’s description continues, while Tony ignores the jar in his hand, bracing to interrupt on schedule. 

“It’s an electromagnet, hooked up to a car battery, trying to keep the shrapnel stationary.” Tony says, looking over the lines of Yinsens suit. It looks neat, but the tattering along the edges and the yellowing along the collar make Tony ache for the other man’s losses. 

Yinsen looks a little shocked at his summary, but smiles and tells Tony how they met once in Berlin, about a lecture and a drunk asshole. Tony smiles, but is cut off by the hammering at the door and feels his stomachh drop at the noise. He remembers this part too well. Knows what’s coming, wants anything else. 

One observation does not prove a hypothesis. He is a scientist and the scientist longs for data. Yinsen doesn’t have to pull him to his feet, but does try to grab him when Tony lunges forward. 

Gun to the head is actually not a bad way to go. Quick.

“I’m sorry. You can’t die yet.” Fuck.

Their aim is not as good the second time around. Bullet to the eye apparently is not always fatal. Almost hurts worse than a hole in the chest, but he doesn’t bare it for long before, “I’m sorry. You can’t-”

The ninth time he yanks the tube out, he thinks he really can not do this again. Nine may not be a very large sample size, but Tony is just sick enough of the screaming and coughing to decide he’s got enough to convince himself. Definitely looping. When Yinsen gives him the mirror this time, he gives it his full attention. During the last iteration, he’d caught a glimpse of himself in murky water just before forcing forward enough to die by electrocution.

The youth of the man looking back at him adds a layer he want to smachk himself for not considering. For a loud and proud atheist, he really jumped on that eternal life concept with fervour. Catholicism is one persistent bitch. 

Time travel has occurred to him before, because of course it has and not just in the “Damn, if only I had a time machhine and could get Pepper blueberries instead” sort of way. He’d given the technology actual thought a few times, sketched out some ideas and some equations. Even got little mini breakthroughs peer-reviewed and published. 

That’s actually why he’d so readily gone with the whole trapped forever in hell spiel. Time travel just wasn’t possible, not with anything even slightly resembling current technologies. He knew it and still. 

Still. He looked young. Younger than the eight year age difference really should be accounting for, even with the bags under the eyes and the sagging of his skin from injury and neglect. That and the fact that although Yinsen started his script much the same way every time, if Tony deviated wildly so did the other man. On trial six, Tony had immediately stood up, grabbed the battery off the table and staggered towards the metal door. Yinsen had cut himself shaving, before flinging himself at Tony and guiding him back to the bed. When Tony told him he was already dead and just looping through a dream, the scientist had been so utterly flabbergasted he’d missed the banging door. They both got shot and Tony did not bring it up the following two times. 

Also, Tony was inclined to trust his prison mate on that statement of reality. There really wasn’t a way to know for sure, not completely, but simplest explanation and all. The pain on each cycle felt real enough, as did the bullets and the tube. The earnestness and bafflement on Yinsen’s face seemed too genuine for the man to not be experiencing consciousness himself. Plus, Tony always assumed reality over magic or religion. Hypothesis número dos may just deserve to be his working theory. 

Letting out a heavy breath, Tony glanced up in time to catch the glass of shrapnel. It was getting a little repetitive, but Yinsen’s false cheer still felt reassuring. Enough for Tony to force himself into a decision just before the pounding of fists on metal broke out between them.

He went through it as exactly as his memory would allow. Held out and responded ‘no’ until the splashing water caught on the battery and he could do nothing but give the same broken ‘yes’ as before. When they take him out into the sun the heat is just as jarring as the Stark logos and when the big fat man shakes his hand knowing how to escape does not stop him from saying “No he won’t”.

Yinsen’s mimicked reply still feels like giving up.

* * *

Although he knows the arc reactor so intimately he could probably build about 600 while hanging upside down and asleep, the resources are limited and he doesn’t have any of the tools of 2016. Plus, he is pretty sure synthesizing a new element would tip off the guards that he may not be building exactly what they are hoping. So, he melts down the palatium into a hand smoothed mold and resists the urge to flinch when he presses the device into his chest. Even though the poisoning is months and months away, he knows it is already starting. He clenches his fist tighter and reminds himself that every black line is really just dirt and oil, that he will get out of here again and already knows exactly how to save himself. 

The reactor is similar to his first, but there is a smoothness to it, the connection against skin more precise, waterproof casing more secure. The coils and circuitry are finer, he knows no wires will get caught when he takes it out himself, that he won’t have to ask Pepper to assist him. Tony is incapable of making any of the same mistakes twice, at least where his machhines are concerned. Otherwise, well, they stop being mistakes after the fifth or sixth time, so maybe it still counts.

Yinsen is as much an inspiration as Tony always remembered and that is such a bone deep comfort he finds himself holding back tears some nights at just how much he came to fail this man. At how much Yinsen would actually believe Tony had tried his very best. The problem of Yinsen is one he spends many hours considering, more than he thinks a decent person ever would. Because, see, Yinsen wanted his death, wanted to martyr himself for his lost family and hope in Tony. Even though Tony knows Yinsen’s hope is horribly misplaced with the certainty he predicted all those years ago, it seems almost cruel to take that choice from the man. 

Sure Tony’s first thought after accepting the Time Loop Theory™ was that Yinsen would not die this time, that he could and would save this man. But time passed and Tony thought, mind whirling past every consequence of this strange second chance. Yinsen smiles at him and Tony sees a weariness and sorrow he understands all too well and his resolve wavers more each time. There are plans, eight so far, for how exactly to get Yinsen out and back to California with him. Tony hopes he will go with one of them. He also hopes he won’t.

Enough times in Tony’s life he has found peace in the idea of not making it out of a mess, of just being done. Of course, in the end he is thankful for all the people and circumstances that prevented his suicides by apathy, but each time he also really just wanted to hate them for it. Tony will never be able to actually do it himself. The world needs his skills and resources too much for him to just selfishly walk away, to not try harder and harder. And each time the last minute save works out, he never can quite keep that tiny flag of disappointment at bay. Yinsen is much the same as him. The man is skilled and intelligent and idealistic for a future Tony knows will disappoint him. If Tony makes that decision for him, Yinsen will keep going and maybe do something truly great and Tony just doesn’t want to force him. 

But, Tony will save him. Of course he will. Tony will save him and eat any guilt for the pain Yinsen will surely have to face gladly. Yinsen is too good a man, too good a friend for Tony not to be selfish. 

He sighs, still at the same decision with nothing but more certainty and shame to show for the trouble. He slams his hammer down with a touch more force than necessary, but luckily the shin plate he is working on doesn’t warp past the intended curve. Setting aside the hammer, he takes a moment to press and rub at the heat pooling along his bicep. Although Tony has always worked with his own hands and arms, the strength he accumulated through years of fighting, building, and remarkably taking better care of himself, is sorely missed. The few years of youth do little to make up for the lack and it may be nothing more than a quicker loss of breath and louder grunts of effort, but he notices. 

His body is different and the same is such strange ways that Tony is both completely comfortable and helplessly jarred in equal measure. In most ways, aside from the reinstalled arc and missing musculature, the differences are rather nice. There is a lack of grey at his temple that is natural instead of boxed and enough smooth skin instead of raised scars to feel almost naked. He completely forgot the buoyancy possible in his steps with all the aches and poorly healed fractures of superheroing and is enjoying relearning the flexibility and spring. Sure, he’ll have to re-hone the instincts and muscle memory his mind seems stuck on missing, but the number of lines taken away from the crease of his eyes and forehead seem worth the effort. If not that then at least the thickness of his hair certainly. Which, admittedly, he is ridiculous for fixating on since he was decades from going bald at 46. But, the fluff and body cannot fully be accounted for by length and he will take comfort where he damn well pleases.

Yinsen looks up from his scribblings of partial code and equations as Tony takes a seat next to him by the fire. He keeps them close to his chest as he slides them into the pillowcase turned secret satchel, back preventing camera three from catching their existence. It’s more cautious than Tony knows they need to be, never once did anyone even glance at the plans last time, but Yinsen feels more secure this way. Plus, Tony cannot be certain the lack of supervision came from ignorance and not the stealth of their movements, so he merely follows suit and does not comment. 

“You are relentless.” Yinsen notes, eyes concerned but smile kind and maybe a bit impressed.

“Schedules are always better when you are ahead of them.” Tony shrugs and lets his arms fall apart and rest limply at his sides. Smiling just a little brighter, Yinsen stands to retrieve their canister of water. 

“You’ll finish before even your due date.” Tony gladly takes the water and savors the lukewarm liquid. He simply nods and passes the canister back, taking a moment to crack his spine. 

When Tony had initially outlined his proposed time table, Yinsen had tried and failed spectacularly to hide his incredulity. Which, of course was understandable, as not even Tony Stark would have been capable of the speed without deep long standing knowledge of seemingly non-existent technology. Even then, their luck with predicting their captors movements and observation angles was the main key of keeping everything on track. Yinsen’s amazement at that feat makes Tony squirm under the weight of all the lies this second life demands. 

Itching for movement despite the ache and exhaustion rolling off him in unrelenting waves, Tony trails his fingers along the lower seem on his mattress. The uniformity and neatness reassures him as much as anything could in this place. Tucked deep in the musty and crumpling stuffing behind those stitches is a stack of papers not even Yinsen knows about. 

For the first several nights in this loop, he’d scribbled out page after page under the fading light of cooling embers. Eight year old memories, though sharpened by the location, are only so clear and he couldn’t let his advantage go wasted by the warping of time and human recollection. Originally, he only meant to focus on the movements and dates of his captivity, but late at night under the weight of the earth and his own mistakes, everything feels urgent. So on top of secretly building weaponized armor, he tasks himself with protecting a thick stack of smudging parchment. Risks losing a physical record of every name, date, time and location of any important thing that is and will be in his life. 

It is an insane and idiotic risk, but even with his admittedly superior memory, the mind is too susceptible to data loss. Even after Rhodey pulls him out of this god awful sand pit, the stakes are too high not to create a backup. Besides, after years of hiding things from SHIELD at the olympic level, he is rather adapt at secreting away tangible information. 

The papers only spent two days tucked inside his pillow case, before Tony fashioned a crewd needle and seam ripper. After spending far too long striping the threads fraying away from his neckline and studying the precise in and out loops of the mattress seems, he’d fashioned the makeshift safe while Yinsen slept. And there the papers had stayed, for two weeks and four days, completely unknown. 

A few times he considered pulling them out to pointlessly confirm the correct prediction of the ten rings’ movements. At least that was the reason he gave himself. Truthfully, he just wants some physical reminder that this is really happening. Every time he wakes in this place, his previous life seems further and further away and he sometimes starts to wonder if he actually left this cave. If the past eight years haven't actually been some torture fueled nightmare.

He lets that shake, lets the conformation of his still secure secret reassure him and pulls his hands into his lap. They spend some time chatting aimlessly, both weary from Tony’s punishing pace. Yinsen keeps up well with the spontaneous jumps from welding to coding to relaxing that Tony makes multiple times a day, sometimes to the point where Tony assumes he knows exactly the deliberacy of each. As much as Tony would love to work through day and night until he nestless himself safely inside the preliminary Iron Man, an appearance must be upheld. If he works too hard and swiftly no amount of convenient pivoting and shadows would prevent the ten rings from noticing. Which could change things enough to make Tony and Yinsen’s escape just as rushed as last time. Just as bloody.

So, Tony relaxes in carefully calculated intervals and plays up the wariness for every single mercenary tasked with checking in and feeding them. So far they follow exactly the same falsely random pattern of check-ins and examine the exact slowly refined materials on exactly the right day. If Tony can maintain the plot outlined on page 16 of his matress manuscript, they will finish on time. Five days before their captures grew too suspicious and threatened to kill Yinsen in his last life. Before night watch has a chance to finish switching out for morning, Tony will be suited up beside a shielded and armed Yinsen.

* * *

The plan works almost perfectly. Almost, as it always is with him, not quite a strong enough word.

At T minus 20 minutes they sit side by side, code fully uploaded and power sequence on stand by for start up. The crude bullet resistant vest Tony constructed is sewn into the lining of Yinsen’s waistcoat and fitted snugly against the thin man’s chest. Tony’s own body is cocooned in tightly tied leather, which securely presses a history of the next eight years into the small of his back. No words are spoken for long minutes, no words have been spoken for nearly an hour. Not since they sat down with nothing to do but wait and hold their breath against the adrenaline itching to rush into their veins. 

The suit is tucked up behind hanging chains and under a pitch black shadow in the largest blind spot the camera angles allowed. Tony lets his eyes rove over the bulky frame, not quite able to prevent the memories of what Obadiah could turn it into from blinking menacingly in his mind’s eye. He kept most of the exterior identical to mach U1.1, only bulking out the lower legs and forearms to add in longer flight and stabilization. The weight will be a bit more significant for that, no way to avoid it with only iron and copper alloys available. He dreads the strain on his shoulders and knees, but the crude auxiliary joins will come online after the first movement and he will be able to push through. Even if the thing crashes, it will get them out far enough and this time he knows exactly how long it will take for the rescue.

After being awarded the medal for bravery by an unenthusiastic Stern, Rhodey had taken a personal leave to stay with Tony for two weeks. Those two weeks were always carried in a special place in Tony’s heart, the brief retreat to earlier days had smoothed away their shared guilt and anger. But in this strange repeat, the reaffirmed friendship is far from the best thing that weekend gave him. 

For a long time after pulling Tony out of the afghan dessert, Rhodey spoke very little about how long he spent searching or exactly how he managed to be the first on the scene only hours after Tony’s escape. After a particularly intense Rock Band marathon and a dozen too many Dark & Stormies those details spilled out all over the pre-sunlight blur of early morning. Tony should have been too far gone to remember the exact and excruciating details. Should have been blacked out instead of hanging on every piece of Rhodey’s sleepless weeks and skirting of the line between disobedience and conveniently located scouting missions. His hard earned alcohol tolerance came in handy at the strangest times. 

Rhodey had white knuckled the arm rest when he recalled nearly jumping out of the helicopter at the sight of a discarded oil drum two weeks before finding Tony in almost the same place. He’d gripped Tony’s arm in much the same way when admitting that he went back to that same place every few days, driven by some impossible belief that it meant something. Rhodey always was the more superstitious of the two, but Tony understood the pure desperation of grasping at straws. When an explosion went off in a cave not too far from that very place Rhodey had all but forced an entire convoy straight to that exact location. Then, when somehow Tony staggered into view Rhodey had fallen so completely mute in astonishment that another soldier had to call for their descent. There had been enough tears that neither man spoke of that topic again nor commented on the press of Rhodey’s head under Tony’s chin when they woke late the next afternoon still upright on the couch. 

Even so, every time Tony managed to make it out on the other side of death’s door he always swallowed down the guilt of Rhodey’s words. The “Your my brother Tony, my brother. No matter what shit we pull, you’ll always be family.” and “Tony, one of these days I’m not gonna find you. I won’t ever be able to stop looking” and “You are an idiot if you think anything will make me leave you.” They choke him now too, the same way they did the first night he started writing his secret papers. He wonders again what it says about him that a discarded oil drum will be his saving grace in two life times. Wonders how the universe knits such impossible coincidences.

All he can do is be thankful. Rhodey will be there and so will Tony, a week early. Maybe that will spare his dearest friend some of that pain. If only the loop started sooner, he could have spared him it all.

Tony breathes sharply in through his nose to dislodge that persistent thought. No use in resenting an already impossible situation, there is plenty of pain to prevent from this start already. 

Time ticks by slowly, the clipping of Tony’s fingers as they tap against the metal bed frame a distant thrum. Yinsen still faces perpetually forward, so much more silent than any time they’ve shared over the past weeks. 

T-minus 5 and Tony has to at least say something, something for the ‘just in case’ and ‘what ifs’ the dramatically altered situation of his escape forces to mind. 

“We will both get out of here.” His voice is too loud and dry, but he does not clear his throat or move to look at Yinsen when the older man jumps at the sudden burst. The room descends back into their shared silence for a stretch of precisely measured time. 

“Yes, I think we just might.” Yinsen admits eventually, quiet and sincere, and he does not have the same hesitation for looking at his companion. Tony repays that courtesy and meets the man’s eyes firmly. 

“Alive. Both of us.” Yinsen smiles at the word alive, trusting and weary. “We are gonna get out of this shit hole. Together.”

“I’ll have your back.” They nod and the clock is down to T-minus 3, so Tony moves towards the armor without further discussion. Yinsen waits to follow until the sounds of boots and voices pass their door, signaling the switch from night to day watch. Then he jumps up and they seamlessly move into assembling the metal plates around Tony. With the first clang of pieces latching together, time suddenly speeds forward with a jerk and everything begins spinning into frantic motion. 

The metal door is off its hinges and clanging to the floor. Tony is pressing forward with panting breaths as the auxiliaries pulse to life. They are out into the hallway, Yinsen’s face covered by a helmeted welder’s mask. Before the door is fully settled and motionless on the floor, they are half the hallway away and moving fast. Heads and guns are moving in time and turning towards them as they continue racing down the cavern and before the first shots have a chance to go off, a blast of flames shoots from Tony’s arm. The repulsors will always be better, but damn he sort of forgets why this tool is not standard issue in all armors. 

The flames clear enough way for them to continue the punishing rush towards the faint light of a sunrise streaming around a corner. Everywhere the volume of voices is ratcheting higher, the world suddenly awake and bursting all around them. Yinsen is keeping pace, breath heavy and grip firm on the UMP45 pressed into his right shoulder. He is shooting it, but Tony is too busy deploying the manual rocket and blocking any incoming fire to register the targets. 

An explosion and Yinsen is pressing close behind him as Tony pushes through the smoke and falling rocks, out into the startling morning. More yelling and another missle, heavy breathing behind and next to him, a grunt and a hiss. Then Tony is grappling for Yinsen, who struggles but latches onto the handholds carved into the backplate and steps into the protrusions on the side of each knee. For a briefe hysterical moment the jets remain dormant and Tony hacks a small laugh at having to do all this again. Then just as quickly, they pulse to life and he assumes the familiar stance as they blast jarringly into the sky. The last rocket drops heavy as they rise, and the entire cave is engulfed in blazing plumes. 

The burning of jet fuel drowns out any other sound and Tony focuses entirely on getting enough horizontal distance while preventing too much vertical raise. The rudimentary stabilizers in his forearms are nearly pointless, but any aim is better than blind tumbling out of the sky. The boots begin to putter and short, just a few moments before the stabilizers completely run out of fuel and they are sinking heavy through the air. Managing to keep Yinsen above him is all Tony can manage, but a poorly cushioned landing will be better than being crushed into the sand by 300 pounds of metal. Besides, somehow Tony did manage to buoy the descent, so the collapse is not as sharp as his last life’s attempt. 

Still, the wind is fully knocked out of both of them and they lay in the heap for sometime before the last bit of adrenaline pushes Tony up and out of the now broken plating. 

“Fuck.” Tony mutters to himself as he staggers unevenly in the sand, leavering up from his hands and knees with effort. He takes a long shaky pull of dry air with closed eyes. Then he is grinning and laughing and coughing with delight. 

They fucking did it. He fucking did it. He got them both out! His laugh may be approaching manic, but even under all the heavy leather and scorching sun he feels cool and buoyant. 

Yinsen is alive. Yinsen did not die this time and Tony will feel guilty later, right now he is about bursting with relief. 

“We fucking did it. It fucking worked.” His voice is bouncing through the air as he turns to inspect the damage of their landing. The smile falls so far off his face, he hears it landing at his feet.

Of course there is the pile of lifeless steel poking out from the sand like icebergs from a dry sea, but that is not what catches Tony’s breath. A few feet away and to the right is a sprawled body in tattered dress pants and an offcentered welders mask. 

Yinsen is not moving and Tony’s first thought is how the discarded chest piece is sharp enough that he could die on impact if he threw himself down at a roughly 64 degree angle. But, the initial observation missed the slow and ragged rise of Yinsen’s waistcoat and Tony luckily catches it before finalizing the calculations for necessary blunt force. Instead of flailing dramatically at his own discarded tec, Tony scrambles over to Yinsens side. 

He pulls off the mask first and feels some tension ease from his shoulder at the lack of bruising and blood. Both of their helmets were padded thickly with any and all cloth they managed to find over the past weeks, but the chance of concussion and hemorrhaging was not null. Still, the man’s eyes are not open so concussion cannot be ruled out. Tony moves to pull open an eyelid just as both fly open of their own accord. Somehow they manage to miss a collision of foreheads as Yinsen buckles forwards to grasp frantically at his left leg. Turns out Tony celebrated a lack of blood too early.

Yinsen’s pant leg is shredded and the entirety of his shin is covered in simultaneously congeling and flowing swaths of red. No wonder the man hesitated pre-flight. 

Tony’s hands join Yinsen’s, uselessly trying to press in on the multitude of wounds. Dammit dammit dammit. The blood is drizzling out and if Tony never sees a machhine gun again it will be so unbelievably too soon. God, he really did not want to live in that cave again. 

“Belt, my belt.” Yinsen grunts out between heavy breaths and whimpering, eyes now screwed tightly shut and head thrown back onto the sand in agony. His own hands have moved away and are pawing with quickly diminishing strength at his buckle. Tony catches on quick, pulls the worn leather out and around the meat of Yinsens lower thigh. There is no hesitation as he pulls tight and roughly, not even at the gasp and shuddering cries from the man beneath him. 

His hands are red, eyes blurring. “It’s going to be fine. Rhodey is coming. Just hold on, just hold on, come on.” The belt is in place and Tony is ripping off the leather cuffs around his upper arm, dropping them and moving Yinsens leg into the cradle created by their previous curling. Again no hesitation, grunting and whimpering as he ties the makeshift gauze tight with string and old striped fabric. “We did so good. We are so close, I don’t-” Tony’s own gasping enters the fray, but he is standing and pulling off the leather around his knees. He is padding the largest plate of metal he can find and ripping at the exposed wiring at the arms of mach U2.1. “I don’t want to do this again, please Yinsen. We can, we can make it.” His voice is high and wobbly, but he ties the tangling braid of wires to the top end of the metal. “Hold on.”

Yinsen cries out as Tony struggles him flat onto the metal, twisting the older man’s body enough to fit the injured leg fully along side the bulk of his weight. “We just need to head north and Rhodey will be there.” Tony says to himself as he fastens the wires around his waist and shoulders, as he grunts and begins dragging the sled out and away from the wreckage. Somehow he still has the piece of mind to pull the pin in his personally designed delayed grenade just before putting it completely behind him. If Obadiah manages to make something out of that he honestly will have earned it.

* * *

Enough time passes in the relentless push and pull of sliding sand beneath his feet that Tony begins to wonder if he somehow calculated the days all wrong. If somehow his changed actions prevented the appearance of that oil drum and no chopper would be out over this patch before the heat and blood loss killed Yinsen. Tony had stopped a few times in his march to adjust the now unconscious man in an excuse to check his heartbeat and breath. In those times he’d removed both of their shirts to use as face shades and tied the leather around his chest above only his tank top. The papers had been moved to press just above the arc reactor and now both his secrets were completely covered by the material. 

The sun has traveled to the center of the sky by now and Tony prays he somehow managed to keep plowing north despite the lack of blistering compass. How could Tony not have asked Rhodey how quickly they made it out to him? It seemed like a major oversight about now and he has a mind to demand the answer whenever Mr. ‘I’ll always find you’ deemed them worthy of saving. 

Tony stops walking again, breathing deeply and stretching up to alleviate the pull along his shoulder blades and hips. The two knots at his front come undone easily and he is quickly stationed next to Yinsen. The man is pale, but no more so than he was on the last check and Tony cannot remove the leather but the bleeding had stopped. Some time ago he did remove the tourniquet, hoping to prevent nerve damage, and luckily Yinsen’s heartbeat had not changed much since then. Tony cannot help but wonder again if the loss of one of Yinsen’s legs warrants a retry. The answer is not forthcoming, so he stands, fastens the wires and ignores how intensely he does not want to wake up on that operating table. 

Before he can even decide which dune seems easiest to pull Yinsen over, a faint clipping whirl signals to his left. The two choppers are cresting over the horizon just as Tony turns in their direction and only he will ever know the volume of the sob he lets out at that. He allows his legs to buckle like before, let’s his hands splay wide above his head and ignores how his tears instantly evaporate on the warm skin of his cheeks. Yinsen does not so much as stir as the choppers spin up the air around them, but Rhodey is here and everything is going to be fine.

Tony manages to unknot the wires from his chest again before the choppers touch down a few feet to his right. However, he only starts to raise to his feet before strong arms are wrapping tightly around him and moving him up towards the aerial vehicle. He can’t stop the shaking laugh at the mention of the ‘Funvee’. Can’t help the hopeless wish for an earlier start time when Rhodey makes him promise to ride together from now on. 

“Yinsen, he, t-they shot him.” Tony manages between clinging to the straps of Rhodey’s pack and stumbling in the sand. “He helped me, we have to-”

“It’s okay, Tony. I got you. You’re going home.” Rhodey has him fully upright now and they are moving inside the closest helicopter. From his peripheral Tony can see a few of the other soldiers pulling a flat cloth stretcher over to Yinsen and moving to transfer his body onto it. 

“Yinsen.” Tony says again to Rhodey, clutching tighter and trying to convey just how important that unconscious man is to him. Rhodey hefts them both up into the chopper and straps Tony into one of the chairs. 

“They have him, Tony. He is safe. You both are safe.”

* * *

At base he makes such a scene about the leather on his chest the field medic performs all her examinations without removing it. She also reassures him that Yinsen will be alright, that he stopped the blood loss in time, that the nerve damage from the belt should be minimal a good thousand times. Rhodey takes over for the poor girl on that once she finishes bandaging the various wounds the flight and captivity gave Tony. 

“What the hell are you hiding under there?” Rhodey demands when they are left alone in what Tony assumes is some important person’s personal tent. The cot is very comfortable and the desk to the left is covered in papers and folders. There is even a red rug under his feet. 

“A miniature arc reactor cut into my chest.” Tony admits after a small pause. Rhodey knowing would not disprove that Obidah got the information from someone in the Ten Rings. Tony is pretty sure, but he never got a complete picture of how personally involved Stane was post capture. If he found out another way, well, Obidah having no idea about the arc can only mean good things. 

“A what in your chest?” Rhodey’s voice is still sharp, but the confusion has replaced some of the tension in his shoulders. 

“Make sure noone is going to come in and I’ll show you.” Tony replies easily, already moving for the ties at his side. The swift movement to and from the opening brings a real laugh out of Tony. Though it is not quite enough to soothe the ache at seeing Rhodey walk fully on his own. If anything can be prevented, that is up at the top of Tony’s wish list. “Wow babycakes, didn’t know me shirtless got you that hot.”

“Tony, take the damn thing off.” The accompanying glare is as nice as anything Tony has ever seen. Oh he is just so glad to get more years with this guy. 

“Ooo, that voice always makes me tingle.” He shoots back with a leer, but the ties fall loose and he pulls away the leather and sweat damp pages soon after. He thinks about trying to block view of the papers, but Rhodey’s eyes are so fixated on the blue glow that the effort is unnecessary. 

“God, Tony. What-”

“Shrapnel in my chest. Yinsen put a electromagnet in there to keep them from, you know, killing me via deadly dance party. The car battery wasn’t going to match with my Louboutins, so I slapped this together instead.” Rhodey’s face grows more and more horrified as the words flow from Tony in a rush. His eyes alternate from Tony’s face and chest for long minutes, before he staggers and sits down next to Tony on the cot. 

“Tones.” He breathes out without turning to look at the genius. 

“Don’t worry platypus. It works great, all my stuff does.” Rhodey snorts half-heartedly. “Hey, the important stuff always does!” Another little chuckle and Tony pouts and turns his head away from Rhodey, but can’t hold it for long before grinning back at his friend. They smile at each other for a lot longer than deserved by the comment and yet not long enough at all. There are so many mistakes not yet made and Tony wants to bask in this easy brotherhood, without all of the baggage they will gather in the coming years. 

Rhodey looks away and sighs, laying his head against the tent’s tension tight wall. “We need to have someone look into that.” He remarks with a gesture to Tony’s chest.” Make sure-”

“No.” Tony cuts in sharply, reaching for the leather once more. It is only a matter of time before someone comes in to get Rhodey or tell them about the jet scheduled to transport them back to California. He decides to leave the papers where they are, loath to draw Rhodey’s attention to them. They gave him a bag along with the change of clothes anyways, he can keep them close still. 

“Yes! We can’t be sure something won’t-” Rhodey jumps up to stop him from tying the first knot. Tony slaps his hand away and cuts him off again. 

“Rhodey, this was not an accident. They knew I was in that transport.” At that the soldier sits back again, letting out a ragged breath and even if Tony had not been told as much by future Rhodey, that proved Rhodey had already been thinking the same thing. 

“You know it’s true. I know-” Tony bites back that, because really there is no way the person he was at this point would have even considered Obadiah, even though the signs all blazed out in hindsight.“I think I know who tipped them off.” 

Spinning to face him again, Rhodey gives him a startled yet unsurprised look. He really puts too much stock in Tony’s ability to puzzle everything out, way more than he ever deserved. 

“Who?” Glancing back at the tightly closed opening, he lowers his voice. “You can’t think someone here would-” 

“Not here. S.I.” His eyes widen, but there is still no surprise, more relief and possibly... vindication? 

“What, you can’t think-”

“Rhodey, someone tied very closely with that operation gave them my location. Only so many people knew the details.” And Rhodey knows, he has already ran through countless theories before now. Tony knows this, but he still smiles when Rhodey jumps right in alongside him. Sure Rhodey is a pretty face, but the brain is what keeps Tony coming back. 

“And you think they stayed in contact after.” Not a question. Rhodey’s jaw tightens, anger building under his skin. 

“Yes. And if they know anything about this…” it would be proof. Rhodey nods with clenching teeth and then turns to Tony with pure steel eyes. 

“Who, Tony?” He knew the answer already, Tony could see it in the heavy rise and fall of the man’s breathing. 

“Stane.” 

“That son of a bitch!” The bed rattled at the punch into the too soft mattress. 

“I know it was him Rhodey.” The reassurance is not necessary and Tony feels a little lost at his friend’s reaction. Rhodey never told him. This rage is pure righteousness, something deep like satisfaction and horror at being right in the man’s dark eyes. How long had Rhodey believed Stane capable of something like this?

Tony remembers Rhodey mumbling about Stane being a jerk a handful of times in college. He remembers how little time they spent together, how Rhodey always kept their conversations short. But, he never thought it anything more than a clash of personalities. He always reassured Rhodey that Uncle Obie was just a brash guy. Rhodey never once said ‘I told you so’ either. God. 

“I’ll kill him. I’ll go kill him right fucking now.” Somewhere in Tony’s musing Rhodey moved from the bed and began pacing the room. He is a ball of bursting rage and Tony could cry at how deeply he loves James Rhodes. 

“Baby, I love when you get all caveman for me, but we got to do this right.” With a small and light voice, Tony moves to stand next to Rhodey and place a hand on the tight muscles of his shoulder. The man reels on him, but only to clutch at Tony’s shoulders in turn.

“He’s known you your whole life! How could he? That RAT bastard! What the hell could he possibly gain?!” The rage is underlined with a kind of pleading that Tony never wants to hear again. 

“Money. It’s always money with me sugar.” A shrug and a smile and Rhodey is sighing heavy with closed eyes. The fight is still in him, but like a good soldier it is set to simmer for the long game. 

“I always thought something was up with him. I never liked him.” Still no told you so, never with Rhodey. Not when it really matters. “But this, fuck, I don’t know if I can keep from punching him when we get back.” His eyes are open again and now he is smiling back at Tony, wobbly. 

“Rhodey.” Tony tries, but the gratitude is breaking his voice somewhere towards the end. The other man’s smile comes right along with it. 

“He betrayed you! He did this-” Rhodey gestures at his chest before just collapsing against Tony again. This time Tony holds him up. That is always what they do; hold each other in turns.

“Thank you for believing me.” He chokes out and it is not necessary, but oh it really really is. 

“Thanks for making it out,” said against Tony’s shoulder, wetly.

They don’t say much else until well after a young man comes in to announce the transport will be arriving in one hour. Things get hectic again as Tony ignores everyone pleading for him to just sit and rest and instead sets off to insure that Yinsen will be coming along with them and have absolutely no issues remaining in the U.S. for as long as the man damn well pleases. 

“I will have Pepper marry him if I have to!”

“Tony.”

In the end they take his word that Yinsen will be fully endorsed by S.I. as a consulting engineer and sign off to have him transferred to the very best medical facilities in So.Cal. They keep him in an induced coma throughout the trip and won’t answer Tony’s insistent questions, but the relief at hearing the heart monitor’s continual beeping goes a long way. Rhodey lets him sit next to the other man’s bed the entire time anyways.

* * *

He changes into a suit on the way, while Rhodey sits and watches Yinsen for him. A good dozen cuts line his face and about 98% of his body is a bruise, but the padding in the suit had been enough to avoid any broken or sprained limbs. Rhodey still has to help him stand from the wheelchair when the cargo doors open onto the landing bay of Edwards Air Force Base. Yinsen is wheeled away to the ground transport vehicles and Tony reluctantly allows himself to be separated from the man. For now. 

Rhodey moves to step away after walking him most of the way towards a waiting Pepper and Happy, but Tony grabs tight to the man’s sleeve. Feeling like a scared four year old he pleads silently when Rhodey looks at him before sighing with a pinched smile and a nod. Maybe he is a coward, but he can’t face his not really ex-girlfriend alone. Plus, if Rhodey leaves he won’t be able to punch Obadiah in the face when the jackass tries to hug Tony. 

Pepper is stunning, freckles and red rimmed eyes and those lovely bangs he always adored. Her hair is blowing around and framing her face and it would be so very easy to fall into her again. She is poised and crystalline, glowing as she bites at her lip and presses back tears with a strength so graceful it takes his breath away. He wants to collapse into her arms, feel her perfect fingers brush through his hair and her lips ghost at his ear with reassurance. 

Instead he smiles, genuine because Pepper deserves that, and says, “Your eyes are red.” But it’s not the same as last time, he isn’t teasing her. He is awed. Struck dumb, because there in the watery blue he sees all that same love. So long before they really started their dance and somehow she is looking at him with that patient tenderness he will find the breaking point for time and time again. It’s a younger, softer love than what he lost months ago and it knocks him sideways. “Tears for your long-lost boss?”

She laughs and he needs to bottle that sound and keep is safe from the rest of the world, from himself. “Tears of joy. I hate job hunting.” The smile is just as terribly beautiful as every other thing about her and Tony vows to let her go. 

“Sorry to cut your vacation short.” His walls draw up with a sniff and the straightening of his shoulders. “Meant to give you a full three months.”

She rolls her eyes. He loves that way too much. 

“Rhodey ride with us.” Snapping the remaining tension between them, Tony turns to Rhodey and continues talking before the man can even consider protesting. “I’m gonna call a press conference and they’ll send you there anyways.”

“A press conference? Tony you have to go to the hospital.” Pepper objects, arms coming up in an aborted move to grab his arm, likely afraid of the injuries necessitating said hospital visit.

“Nope, I actually really don’t.” Tony declares, stuffing his hands into his pockets and pointedly ignoring the sting in his shoulder at the movement.

“Tony, really would it hurt?” Adds Rhodey, arm still clutched around Tony’s shoulders. 

“I have been in captivity for months.” Tony bites out, really wanting to skip over all this nonsense and to the point where he is home with a company that no longer makes weapons and an Obadiah that no longer exists. “I think I have a right to a press conference if I want one.”

“Tony.” Pepper tries, but he starts walking them towards the car, somehow pulling Rhodey along through sheer stubbornness. On whose part he is not sure.

“Yep, I deserve a press conference. But first how about a cheeseburger. Oh and a chocolate milkshake. Yeah that sounds good.” Now standing by the rear door, he turns to Rhodey and squirms out of his hold. “You want anything honeybear?”

“No.” Rhodey makes a motion to grab him again, but relents when Tony spins to look at his other two friends with a cheerful smile. 

“Pepper?” She closes her eyes with a sigh. “Happy?” He shakes his head, but there is a laugh in his eyes and Tony can’t fight back a brighter grin as he claps his sore hands together. “No, okay then just two cheeseburgers, a milkshake and a press conference.”

“Anything else Mr. Stark?” Pepper sighs, somehow professionally. 

“Yes, a recorder or something like it. Not really picky.” He turns fully towards her and makes a vague waving pinched gesture that should convey a something capable of recording.

“A recorder?” That throws her a bit, but Tony knows she’ll find him one in minutes. 

“Enough questions!” Tony announces and turns back to the car. “Come on Happy, get the door. What on earth am I paying you for?”

“Good to see you too, Boss.” Happy replies, the smile now spilling out from his eyes into a full blown grin.

* * *

“He’s gonna try to hug me.” Tony whispers to Rhodey as the car pulls up to the curb and an entire swarm of reporters. God if it wasn’t the most efficient way to get the ball rolling on this, Tony honestly would just cancel the whole thing and go to bed. 

“I’ll get out first.” Rhodey answers immediately, unceremoniously climbing over Tony’s lap to do just that. Pepper and Happy raise their eyebrows but do not comment. Through the window Tony sees Obadiah move to open their door and bites back against the apparently still festering wound now pulsing at the sight of him. Before he can spend too much time on that though, Rhodey is stepping out and pulling Tony flush against his side with no regard for a single person looking at the display. 

“Tony! We were going to meet at the hospital.” Obadiah bellows and moves in with arms open. Rhodey shifts them both just enough to prevent what surely would have been a skin crawling embrace. 

“Nope, I’m all good. Just peachy honestly.” Tony babbles out, firmly not looking Obadiah straight on in case Rhodey’s gesture is not enough to dissuade any PDA from the man. If he notices anything odd about that behavior, he does not show any outward sign.

“Look at you!” Accepting no hug is forthcoming, Obadiah shifts his arm to clasp at Tony’s shoulder instead and the contact seems to simultaneously burn and freeze every nerve in the genius's body. “You get me one of those?” All smiles and laugh lines that Tony could quite honestly punch right off the man’s face. 

“Sorry, Rhodey ate the other four.” Tony answers and promptly shoves the unwrapped burger almost fully into his mouth. He keeps his eyes skating through the crowd and starts walking towards the building’s front door. 

“Tony.” Rhodey chides, but the tension in his arm is rolling off in over protective waves that really contradict any exasperated note in his voice. Behind them he hears Obadiah boasting to the crowd like a carnival barker, “hey, look who is here!”

“Rhodey, go with Pepper.” Once they are fully inside the building Tony snakes out from Rhodey’s arm and starts walking away from him towards the center stage. 

“You sure?” The man calls out after him, reaching an arm out and moving to follow. Tony waves him off firmly and shoots over his shoulder, “Yes and sorry for not warning you about this next bit.” He ignores the “What, Tony?” called after him and moves up to the stage with forced steady steps. Obadiah moves away to give him room behind the podium, which Tony fills without so much as a glance towards the man.

He does not open with his father, does not so much as mention him. He does not sit down nor implore the reporters to do the same. He does not show a single shred of weakness this time, not even the slightest of micromovements for the hyenas to use when insisting this announcement is a part of his nervous breakdown. No, this time he stands straight and rigid behind a microphone with all the conviction and power of a battle worn superhero. 

“Well I’m glad you all could make it to my spontaneous little homecoming party.” He begins and lets all their fake little chuckles wash over him as he smiles bright and completely in command. “I wish I could say I had a lovely vacation, but it turns out being totally off grid does not really agree with me.” The chuckles continue because Tony can play an audience like a goddamn fiddle. For a moment he lets them alone to their amusement, then he breathes deep and leans forward on the stand with clasped hands. Just as the silence starts to creep into uncomfortable, he speaks again. “I was held captive by men using the weapons I myself designed.” A shocked hush descends over the room and Tony relishes their predictability without so much as shifting in his stance. “I watched young Americans killed trying to defend me from these same weapons. From things I created to protect them. I saw just how badly Stark Industries has failed at accountability, how much I let myself become part of pretending the problem does not exist.” The murmuring is starting to pick up again and he can see a few of the bolder ones leaning forward at the ready to shout out questions. He stands at his full height. “Stark Industries will no longer pay party to this kind of intentional disregard. Until further notice and effective immediately, the weapons manufacturing division of Stark International is shutting down. There will be no questions.” 

Every single person is shouting, but Tony simply turns and walks right off the stage and out the door without another word. 

He does not get far before both Pepper and Rhodey are at his sides and fuming. “Tony, what the hell are you doing?” and “Really, you couldn’t have warned me at all?” snap out of each respectively but he just grins and continues walking. 

“Don’t worry kids, Daddy knows what he is doing.” They both balk at that and continue to follow him out across the hall and out into the courtyard. He cuts across and towards the parking lot, where he can see Happy jumping into the driver's seat. 

“And what on earth might that be?” Pepper asks, while Rhodey just wipes a hand down his face with a deep all encompassing sigh. 

“Trust me for a little bit. I got a whole plan, green energy and medical supply and an entire host of other products that will take hours to list. I promise I will let you in on every bit of it later.” Happy meets them just as Tony moves off the sidewalk and reaches to open the back door. He slides in, but stops Rhodey from following. 

“Go back in there, someone will have something to say about you tailing me everywhere eventually.” His best friend huffs up to protest, but Tony clasps his hand in both of his before any explosion can take place. “I’ll be okay. Obadiah will want to talk to me alone and I need you to go smooth down all the feathers my latest stunt just ruffled. I promise I will tell you if I need you.”

Pepper watches the exchange, clearly aware there is some story she is missing but does not comment when Rhodey deflates and steps away from the car. “I don’t like your plan, I told you eight times on the way here how much I hate the plan. You pulled this just so I would have to go deal with all the shit it is going to cause, didn’t you?”

“No, I did it so I could sleep at night. Distracting you is just a happy side effect.” Tony grins at him and lets their hands separate. Rhodey moves further back but his eyebrows are pulled tight together and his eyes are stern in warning. 

“If he makes you feel threatened in any way-”

“I will call upon my knight in shining armor without hesitation. Stop fretting mom, I know how to play this alright?” Scooting further into the car he motions for Pepper to join him. Happy watches through the rearview mirror with similar concern. 

“Fine. Still hate this plan though.” Rhodey puts his hands in his pocket, seemingly to prevent himself from reaching out and tugging Tony from the car and back into the safety of his old friend’s arms. 

“Noted, now get going baby.” Tony pulls the door closed over Pepper’s lap once she slides inside. Rhodey gives the tinted window a dirty look, but does turn back to the building soon enough. Happy waits and seems ready to speak, but Tony cuts him off by ordering them to go see the arc reactor. 

Pepper stares at him in bafflement and it takes until they are out of the conference centers parking lot for her to finally speak. “What is going on? I am more lost than I think I have ever been in all my time working for you and I was here during the Tokyo debacle.” 

“That really was just a series of misunderstandings and your inability to get over it really shows a rather imperative character flaw for someone I trust with so much information. I don’t know if this position is really right for you.” Tony babbles, admittedly stalling because he really cannot involve her in this again. He also really cannot lie to her when she is looking at him with those eyes. 

“Tony, stop stalling.” And damn was there any real hope of not telling Pepper every last detail. At least about Obadiah and his newest body modification. The whole time travel thing not so much. 

“Alright, alright. You are not going to like this, but…” he begins and then launches into a rushed summary of everything he told Rhodey. Like Rhodey there is a raw anger as the tale unfolds, but unlike him she actually seems completely shocked and he takes comfort that he is not the only one caught off guard by the betrayal. Happy says nothing but he also nearly crashes into a wall when Tony admits Stane is his prime suspect and his heavy breathing says just as much as Pepper’s cursing of the man. 

“Oh my god. How could, I can’t believe-” Her eyes are filling with tears as she stares at his exposed chest. She reaches out, but does not touch it before enveloping him in the hug he so sorely longed for this entire time. “Oh Tony, I am so sorry!” He lets her hold him for longer than is really appropriate for the type of relationship he is steadfastly determined to have with her. Still he is the one to pull away and he mentally pats himself on the back for the show of strength.

“It is what it is. I have moved on.” She looks incredulous even though Tony really can say the statement is true. That opens a can of worms though, so he gives into her disbelief. “At least I will once I catch the guy in this and I don’t want you or Rhodey even remotely involved.”

“How can you say that?” She demands, hands forming fists at her side. 

“He has connections Pep, more than even I know about. This is dangerous and I will not let you guys put yourselves at risk.” Tony all but pleads. She still looks angry, though there is more concern there and he thinks he may be able to separate her from the mess yet. “He doesn’t know I know anything yet. I have the advantage and if I can pull the information together, he won’t know anything hit him until they are carting him off.”

“There has to be something we can do.” Pepper asks helplessly, fists releasing. 

“There is. I need you to get that agent you talked with today on my calendar ASAP.” He saw Coulson in the back talking to her right as he’d stepped onto the stage. His entire plan had hinged on the guy coming into the picture and he is glad he remembered Pepper mentioning how she’d met the agent correctly. 

“What?” All the anger is gone now, replaced with an exhausted confusion. It is a good thing this look is so nice on her because he has a feeling this is going to become a standard expression in the years to come. 

“And I need you to personally make sure Ho Yinsen is taken care of, money is no object for this one and I want to know the second they have him awake.” He continues with little pause. 

“Tony.” A plea that he is physically incapable of ignoring completely. 

“Pepper, I promise I will explain everything to you eventually. But, you just have to trust me right now. I need to figure out how to keep you safe before I can involve you and I didn’t have the time to map it out in between all the escaping.” She deflates at the words, turning to face the front seats and close her eyes. Happy meets his through the mirror and the horrified sympathy there just makes Tony shrug and smile hopelessly back at him. 

“Alright. Is there anything else I can do for you?” Pepper finally asks when they come to a stop at their destination. Tony opens the door and steps out, patting his pocket to make sure the recording device Pepper had given him part way through his story is there. 

“Not just yet.”

* * *

The meeting with Obadiah runs exactly to script, mostly identical to his last life and immortalized in a tiny black rectangle. The man knew about the arc reactor and when he touched the thing Tony nearly threw up. He promised Obadiah he will lay low while simultaneously planning to attend every single board meeting ever and calls Happy to pick him up the second the man leaves. Pepper comes along and relays the information she got back from the hospital, which mysteriously had Tony listed as Yinsen’s next of kin in their databases. (Tony had some time and access to the internet while waiting for Obadiah to arrive). She also gave him a list of all the meetings they would need to schedule and in a bizarre change of position had demanded Tony take some time to himself and not attend every meeting the day after coming home. 

So, after kissing her on the cheek goodnight and yelling at Happy to make her get some dinner on the way home, he steps into the Malibu mansion alone and exhausted. He will later blame said exhaustion for jumping when a voice calls out to him from the walls, “It is so good to have you back Sir.”

That voice is what finally does him in and Tony lets the tears well up in his eyes. Lets them spillover as his breath goes uneven. God he missed JARVIS. 

“So fucking good to be back buddy.” He finally crokes out, moving from the front door and into the familiar house. This place was always one of his favorite homes and seeing it standing up from the cliffs edge had tugged painfully at his chest. In the low light of evening, it feels even more like a dream now than the late delirious nights in the cave. He shoves a hand in the bag slung over his shoulder and clutches at the papers to remind himself of the reality. 

JARVIS runs down a summary of happenings during his captivity as Tony makes his way to the workshop. Sure the information is nothing Tony did not already remember, but he feels soothed by his voice and keeps asking him more and more obscure questions just to hear it. 

Once inside the workshop he gives himself a long minute to breathe in the metallic air and soak in the sigh of his bots and his tec and his home. Then he straightens and walks over to the scanner sat to the side of one counter top on the far wall, skimming hands over DUM-E and U as he passes them with reverence. Once the papers are stacked in the slot, he walks the few more paces into the corner and falls onto the cot with a deep throaty sigh. The bots sidle up next to him and he pats each one in turn before closing his eyes and speaking up into the ceiling like a goddamn loon. “I need you to scan in those pages and start three new project folders for me.” 

“Certainly.” Jarvis replies and the sound of the scanner fills the air like a lullaby. 

“The first group goes in Project 1, name Iron Man U2. Set them in a sub project titled mach 1 and take the next ten in for a mach 2.” He rattles off, settling down into the familiar comfort of the memory foam beneath him. “The next go in for Project Neutralize Stane along with all recordings on this.” He tosses the rectangle to DUM-E, who picks it up off the floor with his claw and carries it over to the center desk, where Jarvis will be able to scan in the contents. JARVIS lets out a hum of acceptance.

“The other ones I want you to scan in, then sort the timeline entries in order of occurrence and split into subcategories for Banner, Romanoff, Barton, Thor, Rogers, and SHIELD. For anything not mentioning those categories set in a personal directory split in whatever way makes the most sense to you.” Tony continues, voice beginning to slur with the comfort of the whirling machines all around him. The light behind his eyes begins to dim, but he does not bother thanking Jarvis. “I’m sure it goes without saying, but all of these are of the highest security rating. They should only be held on my personal servers behind the absolute most stunning firewall and encryption your little heart can come up with.” 

“Of course.” Another hum of acceptance and Tony is sinking down into what may end up being the most peaceful sleep on record if the calm washing over him is anything to go by. Long moments pass and he nearly fades off before JARVIS calls out quiet and slow. “And what name for Project 3, Sir?” 

Tony smiles, unable to stop it, as he lets the tension drain and all responsibilities wait until tomorrow. “Avengers Assemble.”

**Author's Note:**

> This starts when Tony is in a very very bad place mentally and that is reflected in his overall blasé attitude towards his own death. This first chapter especially is rather dark and takes place mostly during his time in the cave. So just be wary about some suicidal talk and grievous injuries. 
> 
> Things will get brighter in later chapters, promise!


End file.
